


A Voice in the Darkness

by Black_Betty



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Feelings, First Time, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Betty/pseuds/Black_Betty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik has been using Charles as his go-to phone sex operator for a long time. Now they're meeting in person for the first time, and Charles is everything and nothing like what Erik imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Voice in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation/sequel/AU? of a perfect little fic ikeracity wrote, which you can and should read here:   
> http://ikeracity.tumblr.com/post/80850333032/did-you-call-for-fic-luninosity-look-what-i 
> 
> Original prompt by luninosity <333 I completely forgot I wrote this until it resurfaced recently on tumblr - thanks to everyone who liked and reblogged it! (Title comes from Longfellow...I think)

 

Erik would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined it.

All those months with only Charles’ voice in his ear had meant he had nothing  _but_ his imagination.

Charles had only given him vague details of his appearance, brown hair and blue eyes, and left Erik to fill in the details. Erik had always been bad at people, preferred defined geometry and hard numbers and tangible real world structures of iron and steel, but something about Charles’ voice had made him strain to picture a face, a body.

In the beginning there had been doubt sitting stubbornly in the back of his brain that maybe Charles was old, or ugly, that his physical self couldn’t possibly be as sexy as the low accented voice that whispered dirty thoughts into his ear. But after the initial awkwardness had passed and he’d had not only the best orgasms of his life but also, suddenly and without warning, a person that he could actually  _talk_  to and share pieces of his life with, his doubts and worries, his tentative hopes, he found he didn’t care what Charles looked like. 

He feels now like he has hit the jackpot. 

They’ve gone to dinner twice now and it’s been odd having Charles present and tangible for the first time. Strange, but kind of wonderful. Charles is bright and charming, younger than he had expected, and shorter too, though neither of those things detract from his appeal. He’s shockingly attractive, and has the habit of smiling at Erik with a secret tucked into the corner of his mouth, like he knows exactly what Erik is thinking. It drives Erik crazy and somehow perfectly fits the nebulous image of Charles he had constructed in his head all those times he heard the same smile in Charles’ voice over the phone.

It wasn’t planned, but now he thinks it’s inevitable that they’d end up in his bedroom, with Charles slowly unbuttoning his shirt in the low lamplight. They are still strangers in so many ways. Charles’ body is foreign to him despite his ability to make Erik come in less than five minutes in the middle of a busy office day. And yet, of all the times Erik had struggled to picture Charles, he never could have imagined someone so present, so alive and beautiful.

Brown hair and blue eyes. It’s not nearly close to the way Charles’ hair feels in his hands as he draws him close, the way his pupils dilate just before his eyes flutter shut and he leans up into a kiss. Charles’ coy smile pressed against his own mouth, the give of his generous lips and the slide of his tongue is beyond Erik’s comprehension. His body is firm and soft, is pale and freckled, his shoulders broad, his thighs muscular and thick, flexing as he pushes Erik down onto the bed and slides into his lap.

There is quiet moment after Charles pulls Erik’s shirt from his body and takes a moment to run his hands across his chest, examining the give of muscle in his pectoral, running a thumb over his nipple to make Erik shiver. 

“You’re nothing like what I imagined,” he says quietly, and the sound of his voice coupled with the feel of his body, heavy and pressed up against his own makes something jolt through Erik’s stomach and into his groin. 

“Oh?” Erik asks, gripping him by the hips to feel the stretch of skin over bone. Now that he can touch Charles, he can’t seem to  _stop_  touching him, can’t stop trying to discover every single inch of him. He pulls him closer so he can press his mouth to Charles’ neck. “Disappointed?”

“Are you kidding?” Charles laughs, his breath catching in his throat as he tips his head back to allow Erik better access. “You’re gorgeous. Why you ever needed a phone sex operator is beyond me.”

Erik hesitates, glad his face is tucked close to Charles’ shoulder so he can conceal whatever emotion might be flickering there. For all the late night conversations he’s had with Charles over the phone, spilling his guts and his sexual perversions, he’s never mentioned why he went to a phone sex operation instead of just an ordinary hooker, or on a regular date for that matter. At the time it hadn’t seemed necessary, his anxiety and his demons something he could keep from Charles to preserve the sanctity of their liaisons.

He feels vulnerable now, and not because he’s half naked with a man in his lap, sitting in the apartment that’s more like a fortress, impenetrable and isolated.

“Okay?” Charles asks, reading the tension in his body no doubt and running his hands soothingly through Erik’s hair. Erik nods, running the tip of his nose along the pulse point of Charles’ throat where he imagines he can see his heart beat under the skin. He pulls back just enough to kiss Charles and then they don’t speak again for a long time.

Sex with Charles is both foreign and familiar. He knows what Charles likes but it’s different now, even as Charles laughingly uses the number code to request Erik pin his wrists to the mattress. Now he can feel the tremor that runs through Charles body as he’s held down, can feel Charles’ breath hot against his cheek as he pants for air. He knows what Charles’ legs feel like around his waist, and the sound he makes when Erik finally pushes inside him. That he keeps his eyes open and watches Erik, and that in the low light their colour is bottomless and deep blue like the ocean.

And he knows now the broken expression of ecstasy on Charles’ face as he comes, though the groan wrenched from his mouth is just as sexy as it was over the phone. It’s enough to push Erik over into his own orgasm, twisting white hot from the tips of his toes and spilling endlessly out of him. 

“I always wondered if you were faking it,” he says afterwards as they lay in clean sheets facing one another, the sweat cooling on their bodies, their fingers and feet intertwined. “Now I know you weren’t.”

Charles smiles at him and shakes his head.

“Nope. Never with you.”

There’s a pause and Charles focuses his eyes on their hands and the slow motion of Erik’s thumb as it rubs back and forth against his palm. He asks,

“What about me? Am I what you imagined?”

Erik watches him for a moment and then reels him in so he can press a kiss against the side of his mouth. Keeps him close.

“You are nothing like what I imagined,” he answers honestly.

Charles leans back.

“Is that good or bad?” he asks, his brow furrowed. Charles is nothing but confidence and charm and to see him hesitant and unsure seems unnatural. His voice reveals nothing, but his face tells Erik everything, and he wonders how he ever understood anything about Charles when he was only a voice over the phone.

“It’s better,” he responds with a smile. “It’s so much better.”

 


End file.
